


Imagine: Getting lucky with Castiel on St. Patrick’s Day.

by webcricket



Series: Castiel Imagines [33]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cheesy, F/M, Fluff and Humor, St. Patrick's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-03 22:13:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14005938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webcricket/pseuds/webcricket





	Imagine: Getting lucky with Castiel on St. Patrick’s Day.

“Holy walking leprechaun vomit.” Dean gapes when you appear in the library, bedecked and bedazzled in a visually overwhelming array of greens. He spies a familiar swath of olive flannel peeking from beneath your lime-colored cardigan. “Hey, is that my favorite-”

“Happy St. Patrick’s Day!” you cut him off with a cheerful shout, raising the glass you grip to the ceiling, sloshing some of the liquid onto the floor. You’re not about to let another lecture about you raiding Dean’s closet ruin the festivities.

“You look like you’re one shamrock short of a full on parade, sweetheart.” Dean smirks, forgetting his filched flannel for now.

“Is that… _Kool-Aid_?” Sam wags his chin toward the oddly hued liquid brimming your glass.

“Nope, it’s even better than Kool-Aid.” You wink and take a sip. Pale green froth rimming your upper lip, smiling in satisfaction, you ask, “Green beer, want some?”

“It’s not even noon,” Sam peers at his watch in meek protest.

Dean extends a hand toward you. Fingers undulating in a _gimme_ motion, he notes, “It’s five o’clock somewhere, Sammy.”

“Yeah, okay Jimmy Buffett.” Sam runs a palm over his face, grin budding despite himself.

“Come on Sam, it’s good luck,” you whine, striding over to offer Dean the drink.

“I’ll tell you who wasn’t lucky, the druids Saint Patrick drove out of Ireland.” Castiel materializes behind you. You love having him around cause, well, you love _him_ , but the angel has a nasty habit of sneaking up out of nowhere mid-conversation and making you jump out of your skin. You nearly dump the beer in Dean’s lap.

The elder Winchester flings a scolding scowl at the angel. “And what do you know about gettin’ lucky?”

“If you’re referencing the popular euphemism for engaging in intercourse,” Cas deadpans, cocking his head for added emphasis, “everything.”

Luck of the Irish indeed. You squeak involuntarily.

“Wait, are you talking about-” Dean asks, quirking a skeptical brow at his friend and holding up a pointed finger, “- _sex_?

“Aren’t you?” Cas squints stolidly back in reply.

Giggling and giddier than you were before his arrival, you spin around to confront the seraph who pleasantly pervades your personal space. Tip toeing your fingers up his chest, you bop his nose.

It scrunches into an adorable mass of crinkled flesh beneath your fingertip.

“So, uh, _everything_?” you simper, leaning in closer, a sensual smile stretching your mouth as you search his eyes.

His blues catch the sultry shine of your stare. “Everything,” he confirms.

You snatch at the angel’s tie, giving it a playful tug and using it for leverage to lift yourself upward to brush a kiss his jawline. “Well boys,” you hum, flashing a smirk over your shoulder at the brothers, “looks like today really is my _lucky_ day.” Regard revolving back to Cas, you suggest, “Whaddya say angel, wanna show me those Lucky Charms of yours?”

The eager smile gracing the angel’s lips is the last thing Sam and Dean see before you both vanish.

Sam gawps at the empty air. “That was-”

“A long time coming?” Dean supplies and swigs the beer.

“I was going to say, _awkward_.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I mean, _personally_ , I would have gone with the tried and true classic – do you wanna make my shamrock _shake_. But I think he got the point.”


End file.
